Star Wars: Earth I
by Dathomir
Summary: [Set During the Thrawn Trilogy] Han, Leia, and Chewbacca are attacked by the star destroyer Chimaera, with Grand Admiral Thrawn in command. Their ship is damaged, but they survive and make a jump to hyperspace of their own volition. Or was it?
1. Chapter 1

Star Wars: Earth I

"Unidentified freighter, this is the Star Destroyer _Chimaera_, please transmit your cargo and destination."

The voice came over the Falcon's speakers harshly, reminding Han, Leia, and Chewbacca that they were indeed in deep trouble.

"Chewie, get those shields back up!"

Han was frantically working at the tech station, on the verge of panic. The shields flickered on and then went out again. Han hit the shield control module with a spanner, and they sputtered to life again. Han frowned at the readout screen, 50 power was more than he expected, but much less than he needed against a star destroyer. Flames spouted out of the open maintenance tunnel that led to the sublight drive, followed by a loud roar and the unmistakable scent of singed Wookie. Chewbacca levered himself out of the access tunnel and wedged the panel shut.

"Chewie, how does it look back there? Hurry it up, furball!"

Chewbacca rumbled something ominous.

"Well, maybe we won't need the sublight drive. What we do need is the hyperdrive, the shields, and the concussion missiles. Keep those running and we have a chance. I'm gonna get preliminary jump coordinates from the navicomputer. Then we're gonna have to make a plan."

Chewbacca roared briefly in response and began to tackle the hyperdrive, which was smoking slightly.

Leia was sitting in the cockpit, frantically trying to get the sensors to respond. Han gave her a quick kiss and then vaulted his own seat to land in the navigator's chair, where he began to frantically wrangle with the navicomputer. It had some strange glitch and was spouting dialogue from a slushy best-selling romance holonovel. Han cursed computers and romance novels and began to hit the navicomputer with the same spanner that he had used on the shields. The computer suddenly flashed back to the nav screen, and Han looked at the spanner with something approaching reverence. After he turned his back the computer went back to its romance novel.

"Admiral Thrawn? Sir, the freighter has been tentatively identified as the Millennium Falcon, captained by General Han Solo."

"Very good, Captain, I want all starboard tractor beams on that ship. We are to take them alive."

"Yes, Sir. Tractors are locked on."

"Have the tractors bring it into Docking Bay 47."

"Sir, Docking Bay 47 does not have the in-hangar defenses we need when dealing with a potential threat. Also, Sir, it is full of TIE Interceptors."

"Your information is out of date, Captain; I had them transferred to Deep Storage yesterday. Their crews were reassigned."

"But- Yes, Sir. "

Admiral Thrawn smiled dangerously.

"Watch, Captain. Solo is a gambler. He will gamble our strength against his."

"Well, the dice are loaded in our favor, Admiral."

"Perhaps, Captain, perhaps."

The dorsal turret on the Millennium Falcon smelled like dried sweat and desperation, the effects of the many tight situations that had been bought and paid for there. Leia hated it. But, she really didn't have much choice.

"Leia, honey, are you strapped in?"

"Yes, _dear_, I was strapped in five minutes ago."

"I don't like fast women."

"And I hate arrogant men."

"Okay, I guess we're even. This is gonna be tough. I love you."

"I know."

Han switched off the comm. He turned to Chewbacca.

"They have us in..." He checked his screen, "thirteen different tractor beams. Make that fourteen. Okay, Chewie, this is the plan. We'll let 'em lead us in a bit, and then we'll do a H'Nemthe Feint. If the Hyperdrive works."

Chewbacca growled something low and questioning.

"Yeah, I know, Chewie, but there's just not much else we can do. We'll just have to hope the Hyperdrive works."

Han keyed the comm again.

"Leia, we're going to try a H'Nemthe Feint."

There was a short silence.

"Oh," Leia said softly, "is it that bad?"

"I'm afraid it is. We can't use the sublight and the navicomputer is pretty well shot. If we get out of this situation alive, which I wouldn't bet on, we'll have to do a blind jump. If the hyperdrive works."

Leia could hear the desperation in Han's voice.

"I love you, Han."

"I know. Too bad Luke isn't here to see us go out in a blaze of glory."

"Admiral, the target will be in our hangar bay in minutes."

"You are far too optimistic. Captain Solo, Organa Solo, and the Wookie have proved hard to trap in the past. I do not anticipate that they will be outwitted by this juvenile tactic. Actually, I fully expect them to get away."

Captain Pellaeon looked over at Grand Admiral Thrawn, sitting in his command chair, red eyes glowing eerily in the half light of a star destroyer in full combat mode. He was flabbergasted.

"What?! Then why are we-"

"To test a theory, Captain, and to provide much needed experience for the tractor beam crews. And perhaps they will not get away _absolutely _free."

Captain Pellaeon had regained his control.

"But sir, they are as stuck as glue in our tractor beams, how will they get out?"

"Watch and learn, Captain."

Pellaeon did watch. He watched very, very carefully.

"Okay, Chewie, cycle the blast packs in the loading forks. And then get me a line to that star destroyer. And tell Leia to start the music."

"Sir, we're getting a line from the target, asking for you personally."

"Put him on, by all means Captain." Thrawn manipulated the comm button on his armrest. "Captain Solo, what a surprise."

There was no answer.

Suddenly the front of the Millennium Falcon exploded. Two large, roughly triangular pieces seemed to explode outward, along with a cloud of particles.

"Sir, the front of the target seems to have exploded!" Pellaeon was looking frantically down at his console. His hands gripped the railings over the computer so hard that his knuckles were white.

"Calm yourself, Captain. Tractor Control? Shut down all tractor beams."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Now watch closely, Captain. That cloud of particles is trac-reflective. It snarls up our tractor beams. Now observe the two large chunks. You see the small objects come out of them? They are high-power concussion missiles. If the tractor beams were still on, the missiles would just be pulled in. Instead, they too are snarled up in the trac-reflective particles. But, perhaps not for long."

Almost as one, the missiles stopped moving around and headed out of the cloud of particles.

And straight at the Millennium Falcon.

"Watch and see if they make it, Captain."

The Millennium Falcon did make it, just barely.

And then, half a second too late, a _Victory_ Class Star Destroyer came out of Hyperspace, directly in front of where the Falcon had been, just moments before. The concussion missiles headed straight for it, and were vaporized in a few quick blasts of its turbolasers.

"Now, Captain. Tell me exactly what that ship did, and what you extrapolate from it."

"Well, Sir, the target sent out a transmission, asking for you. I assume that was a confusing tactic, to get our minds off the ship itself. Then the front of the ship blew apart. According to the sensors, the debris consisted of two chunks, presumably the twin prongs on the front of the ship; and also a cloud of trac-reflective particles. Then, keeping the cloud between their ship and ours, they calculated and made a jump into hyperspace. What troubles me, Sir, is the fact that the Millennium Falcon's Hyperdrive was severely damaged, according to our sensors. The sublight drive even more so."

"An interesting puzzle, isn't it? I have seen this trick worked before, but never so well. The front of their ship was blown up on purpose. The message to me was a clever ruse to mask their transmission.

"What transmission, Sir?

"The transmission they sent to the cloaked ship that used its tractor beam to pull their ship into position for the jump into hyperspace."

Captain Pelleaon was astounded. If they had found the cloaking device, they had found Mount Tantiss, and that meant they had found the cloning vats. And that would mean instant death to the Empire. On top of that, the Rebels had done the impossible and used power without being detected. The whole point of a cloaking device was that you were invisible, but you were also blind, immobile and powerless. Even a small power draw like a tractor beam should have been easily detectable at this range. With an effort, Pellaeon regained his self control.

"But, Sir, how!? Could they have-"

"No, Captain, they have not found Mount Tantiss. I have studied our adversaries carefully. If they had found Mount Tantiss, they would have been sure to spread the story as far as they could. You may have observed that our enemy is rather hungry for news that does not broadcast their incredible inability to effectively combat us. It is a measure of how far their morale has sunk."

"Regardless of that, Admiral, this technology they have invented is very dangerous to us. We could be attacked by a fleet of star cruisers and sensors would show that it was a meteor shower. I believe we should-"

"Calm yourself, Captain," Thrawn said calmly. "They merely want us to _believe_ they have a revolutionary new technology. In fact, it is only a clever ruse. I apologize, Captain, if I did not give you all the particulars; you may think of this as a test. For you, for the _Chimaera's _crewers, and for me. Before you say that we should have done more to catch them, I was right when I said that they would not get away _entirely_ free. You see, there is now a homing beacon on their ship."

"But how??"

"It was very simple. I have used the same tactic many times in the past. I simply reversed the flow of one of the tractor beams and sent the homing beacon right onto their dorsal hatch."

"Forgive me, sir, I still don't understand."

"You may recall that I had the captain's console on the bridge modified when I assumed command. During the process, it was easy to make sure that several very important circuits made their way into the motherboard. These circuits give me the control of any single software program in the _Chimaera_. This obviously includes the command-control module for Tractor Beam #314."

The captain felt himself admiring more than ever before the pure tactical genius that made Grand Admiral Thrawn the best military commander the galaxy had ever seen.

"Yes, quite, Sir. I would still be happier with the whole story." There was a hint of reprimand in his voice. After all, a commander has an obligation to the forces under his command, just as they have one to him. Thrawn picked it up immediately. His eyes glinted as he sized Pellaeon up.

"Yes, I suppose I owe it to you. Remember, Captain what I have told you before. Proper respect for command is, of course, a noble ideal indeed. But only in its _proper_ place. We must make sure, in our thirst to restore Imperial Order to the galaxy, that we do not forget the basic key to the Empire's military philosophy. That is, the relationship between an officer and his subordinates. Not just one commanding and the other obeying, but a relationship of mutual benefit which makes a fighting force an entity to be reckoned with. I am a cavalier and revolutionary officer, and I fancy that you are a cavalier and revolutionary subordinate. Do not let your respect for command stop you from asking questions. My unorthodox methods are even more enjoyable when I have someone to explain them to. If they work, that is. But I am rambling. Now I will tell you what happened."

The Grand Admiral told Pellaeon everything that had happened. At the end, he felt sheepish and ashamed that he had not seen through the Rebel scheme as Thrawn had. He also found that he was admiring the Rebels more and more. The ruse they used showed a mental subtlety in the Rebels that he had not sensed before. It was a plan worthy of Thrawn himself. Pellaeon now understood how they had dared to fight the Empire at the height of its power. Perhaps the Alliance had had something the Empire never did. Ideals? Hope? Determination? Pellaeon found himself thinking of the old Corellian proverb. _An enemy you respect is an enemy you can better destroy._ The tables were turned now. The Rebellion's time would come. Grand Admiral Thrawn would make sure of that.

Things could have been a lot worse. The Falcon's navicomputer had blown up, taking one of the ship's droid brains with it. The hyperdrive had only time to catapult them into hyperspace before it also blew up. The good news was that the fire in the sublight drive had dissipated. They had 25 power. Their blind jump had not taken them into the heart of the star. Of course, with the navicomputer gone, they had no idea where they were. Han could see the planet they were orbiting out of the cockpit window, the green of the land and the blue of the sea combined seamlessly with the white of the clouds to form one of the most beautiful planets he had ever seen. But Han wasn't paying attention to the planet at the moment. He was struggling to get the glitches out of the sensor computer, which had been damaged in the burnout creepage caused by the navicomputer explosion. He touched a live wire, biting out a blistering Corellian malediction. Suddenly the screen above him went from a flashing error message to a sensor profile of the entire planetary system. It looked pretty standard. Yellow sun, eight planets, small asteroid belt. The only habitable planet in the system was the one hovering silently below them.

He keyed for a search of the surrounding area. _Maybe we're not the only visitors they're getting. _The sensor scan results were short and rather incomprehensible. No life readings in orbit, no debris, no anything. Han manipulated the sensor controls, asking for a search of the planet. The computer took a while to get its bearings. Then there was a soft _ding_ and the window for the search results opened on Han's screen. Han scrolled through the readings, growing more and more mystified.

"Leia, Chewie, get in here."

"Oh, my stars," said Leia, "it's so beautiful."

Han looked at the planet again. Now that he was looking at it carefully, Han noticed that it was indeed very beautiful, the most beautiful planet, in fact, that Han had ever seen.

"Yeah, well what should we do? I don't want to tell them we're here, they might not like visitors. I guess the best thing to do is go down on the planet. They might have parts we can use for the hyperdrive. Or everything else on this blasted ship that's broken. Who agrees with me?"

Leia shrugged, her eyes fixed on the planet.

"I guess it's all we can do. I've never seen anything so beautiful. It looks like… like Alderaan." Leia started to cry softly. Han put his arm around her.

"Don't cry, sweetheart."

Chewbacca was also looking at the planet. He growled something low under his breath, an old Wookie proverb. _A risk not taken is a branch not grown. _It applied here. They couldn't live in space forever.

He growled affirmatively and set about taking the ship down.

The latest sortie against the Rebels hade gone well, by Pellaeon's standards. He was on his way to give the report to Thrawn, who was in his inner sanctum. As he neared the door, there was a hot breath on his ear and a soft pressure on his neck.

"Captain Pellaeon." A gravelly voice mewed in his ear.

Pellaeon jumped as if stung.

"Rukh, just wait until I get my hands on-"

There was no one there. Pellaeon cursed under his breath and walked briskly to the door. He knocked three times on the door and keyed for the built-in intercom.

"Captain Pellaeon reporting, Admiral."

"Enter."

The door slid open and he walked into the room.

"Good evening, Captain," said the cultured voice from the darkness.

Then Captain Pellaeon heard a click and the darkness was replaced by slowly revolving works of art, illuminated by a hidden light. Pellaeon had seen this several times now, but he was still mesmerized by it. In the middle of the room, two red sparks glinted.

"You like them, Captain."

"Ah-yes, sir, they are…beautiful."

"Aren't they, Captain? These sculptures are my own work. What do you think of them?"

The captain studied the sculptures carefully. They were sinuous and graceful. All the filaments moved, their lights pulsing with each sway. The pillar of light in the center of each sculpture stayed where it was, anchoring the sculpture into its base. They reminded Pellaeon of… Thrawn himself.

"Very telling, sir,"

"Yes, aren't they. The originals are sadly in a private art collection on Coruscant."

"Yes, sir. If I may, I believe the latest report requires your attention."

"Of course, Captain. Our campaign against the Rebels goes very well. Our victory at Qwaridion has turned the scales. We now have officially half of the planets in the known galaxy. Now, I presume, you wish me to cancel all of our upcoming offensive campaigns and continue our search for Solo and his companions."

"That would be my wish, sir. In fact, this report does not cover our campaign against the Rebels; it is Navigation's triangulation of the whereabouts of the Millennium Falcon and its crew."

The captain handed the report to Grand Admiral Thrawn. As he read it, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he stood up, his eyes red slits in the half-light.

"Accompany me to the bridge, Captain."

Thrawn's voice was harsh, harsher than Captain Pellaeon had ever heard it. He hurried along behind the Grand Admiral, struggling to keep up with the tall alien's long strides. As they walked, Thrawn kept talking, his voice growing harsher and louder.

"You see, Captain, I was wrong. That cloaked spaceship which I had believed to be an ally of the Millennium Falcon, aiding and abetting its escape, was no ally at all; in fact, I do not believe that any member of Captain Solo's crew was aware of that ship's presence."

Captain Pellaeon's eyes widened.

"But-then who was it??"

"Ah, that is the question, isn't it?"

Pellaeon drew himself together. This was no time to fall to pieces.

"Do you have any guesses, sir?"

"Yes, captain, I have several guesses. Each of them is as unlikely as the next. Even with my extensive knowledge of civilizations of which the public, or the Republic for that matter, knows nothing whatsoever; I can not think of any race or political entity that would so blatantly challenge my power, let alone possess technology the likes of which the galaxy has never seen. Therefore, I conclude that we are dealing with a completely unknown civilization. Or perhaps an entire galaxy. You may recall that I told you that this was just a clever ruse. I now wish I had been right. As soon as we get to the bridge, we must gather the fleet. All our operations except basic defense are to be postponed or shut down altogether. Our number one motive is to find the Millennium Falcon. And whatever being or beings unknown devised this trap."

"I assume we will then end this war by decapitating its leaders?"

Thrawn stopped and turned around to face the Captain.

"No, Captain Pellaeon," he said quietly, "We will help the Millennium Falcon in any way we can."

"But, sir, I don't understand. Help the Millennium Falcon?"

"Yes, help, Captain. You've heard the word before, I presume?"

"What I mean, sir, is that-"

"Yes, I know what you mean, Captain. Before you labor any longer under your delusions, or this one anyway; I feel it only fair to that there are many things worse than the so-called New Republic. One cannot always fight the enemies one wishes to fight. Indeed, if we are to fight the New Republic, it would be most expedient to defeat this enemy first, so that their will still be a New Republic left to fight."

"But, Sir!"

"That is a discussion for another time, Captain."

"Yes sir."


	2. Conversation

Star Wars: Earth 1

Chapter 2

"General Bel Iblis? Sorry to wake you sir, but there's a call for you."

General Garm Bel Iblis sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was two o'clock in the morning, according to his bedside chronometer; right in the middle of his sleep cycle. He quickly walked across the room to his desk, and sat down heavily. He keyed for outside comm on his datapad, taking the receiver in his hand.

"This is Garm, go ahead."

"General, the star destroyer Chimaera is in orbit; Grand Admiral Thrawn asked for you personally."

"What?!" said Bel Iblis, coming fully awake. "He's here now?"

"Yes, General. I'll patch him in to you."

There was a metallic beep and some grinding. Iblis gritted his teeth and moved the speaker away from his ear. Why did these things have to make so much noise?

"General? Are you there?" The crisp voice came over the comm, made crackly by distortion.

"Yes, this is General Bel Iblis. I trust I'm speaking to Grand Admiral Thrawn?"

"Indeed you are. If you don't mind, I will come straight to the point. I had a recent, ah, _encounter_ with the Millennium Falcon and its crew. Actually, it was several weeks ago, but new data has arisen that makes it a pressing issue. I assume that you know nothing of their location?"

"No, indeed not. Do you know something?"

"Well, in a way, General, in a way. After this altercation with the Millennium Falcon, the crew again outsmarted us and escaped into hyperspace. This is, as I'm sure you'll agree, a pity." Said Thrawn sarcastically.

"Well, of course." Said Bel Iblis, failing to keep the smug tone from his voice.

"Yes, well, personal preferences aside, let us continue. The problem is that neither of us knows where they are."

The smile that had been growing on Bel Iblis' craggy face was abruptly extinguished.

"Well, get to the point," he said gruffly.

"My earliest theory was that the New Republic had discovered the formula for a cloaking device, radically changing it to mask power usage, sensors, and radio transmissions. I furthermore assumed that you had it fitted on a ship, and then, at the behest of the Millennium Falcon, the ship tractored the ship into position for the hyperspace jump, the coordinates of which had just been given to them. They then proceeded to jump into hyperspace, with a heavily damaged ship. Oh, yes, to free itself from our tractor beams, the Millennium Falcon had performed a H'Nemthe feint. This hypothesis turned out to be quite wrong, and--"

"Now, just a minute! Where are you coming from with this? Why does it matter to you?"

There was a brief silence on the other end.

"General, is this line _completely_ secured?"

"Well, yes. I mean, the only people listening in are Chief Counselor Mothma and Admiral Drayson of Fleet Command, my immediate superior and subordinate, as the chain of command goes."

"Well, then listen carefully. I have a vested interest in finding the Millennium Falcon and delivering it and its crew _fully intact_ to the New Republic, and finding the truth of this mystery."

"Hold on, I thought you knew what happened?"

"I thought I had made it clear that my idea is simply a probable theory, and it scarcely covers even the basics of the matter. But anyway, here it is: foregoing the rather complicated explanation for the sake of brevity, I believe that the Millennium Falcon was aided and abetted by a cloaked ship of unknown origin. Quite possible Solo, Organa Solo, and the Wookie have no inkling of what is really going on. They probably assume that their incredible luck got them away from me again—as it quite possibly would have if their H'Nemthe feint had been successful."

Pellaeon, listening to the conversation on the second headset, could almost hear the gears in the minds of the New Republic leaders turning.

Bel Iblis finally broke the silence. "So…you're saying that the Falcon and its crew have been kidnapped by a third power in the universe?"

"Let me say, frankly, that I wish it were that simple."

End of Chapter 2.

Hi, guys. Hope you like my story. It really doesn't have a set period, but kind of assumes that the battle in the end of the Last Command SW book by Timothy Zahn ended in a draw for the Imperials and this resulted in something of a stalemate. I'll be back with chapter 3 later. Enjoy.


	3. Musing

Earth 1: Chapter 3

The Azah cantina in Hillyard City, Myrkyr, was rather a dingy place, in the middle of a dingy town. Wretched canned music was playing on the cheap sound system, and a Twi'Lek was halfheartedly dancing to it in the middle of the room, looking displeased with the whole situation. At a shadowed table in the corner, Talon Karrde sat with former New Republic general Lando Calrissian and Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. Needless to say, the dirty cantina had never had such distinguished visitors.

"Now, as I see it, there are plenty of respectable, safe places they could have slipped off to for a month. Maybe they were being followed and had to run aground or something," said Calrissian, twisting his moustache worriedly.

"Yes, but there are way, way more places they could be stranded, captured, or killed, and we could never even come close to finding them," said Karrde.

Lando shrugged, conceding the point. A man beckoning to them from the door of the establishment caught his eye.

"Karrde," he said, getting up, "I think you're people are ready."

Skywalker tossed down a small credit chit to the robowaiter built into the table and followed the other two men out the door. Once outside, they were joined by Aves, Karrde's right-hand-man and the person who had beckoned them from the doorway. He did not speak, but motioned them all into a fast landspeeder before jumping in himself and slamming the accelerator.

"Aves, what is going on here?"

The cantina behind them abruptly exploded with a concussion that threw them all forward. Aves swerved abruptly to avoid a flaming piece of the roof.

"Ah," said Karrde, looking sardonic, "I see."

"Yes," Aves growled, "It was a bomb in their heating tank. The boys couldn't get it out, so we got you out of there."

"Who did it?" Asked Luke impatiently, looking back at the ruins receding in the distance.

"The owner of the cantina." Said Aves grimly.

"What?" Said Lando, surprised. "Why would he blow up his own place?"

"Because he owes the Hutts money and they paid him to get rid of us or die trying. Or both."

Karrde shook his head with a harder expression than usual. "But why the Hutts?"

Calrissian looked up. "They were hired by someone else."

"Yes, Calrissian, it was a rhetorical question."

Luke shook his head. "No, the Hutts could have been acting independently. They hate us for killing Jabba and they hate Karrde for muscling in on their business. Or, it could be the Empire, outsourcing their dirty work."

"That's what I think. I mean, consider the timing and information they had," said Karrde, as the speeder boosted itself above the treetops and sped back towards Karrde's base.

As they descended and landed in the courtyard of Karrde's main complex, the techs were already scrambling over the Lady Luck, Lando's ship, prepping it for flight.

"You coming with us, Karrde?"

"Wouldn't miss it. I owe Organa Solo at least that much."

"Too right you do." Scoffed Calrissian.

The emptiness of space surrounded the Chimaera. They were parked, as it were, and on low-power mode to conserve the much-needed energy. Grand Admiral Thrawn was in his sanctum, and Pellaeon was in command on the bridge. All was as it should have been. There was a buzz from the comm unit at Pellaeon's station, and he picked up the receiver.

"Captain Pellaeon here."

"The Admiral awaits you in his quarters, sir."

Pellaeon gritted his teeth. He hated going to Thrawn's ethereal sanctum. It was such a jar from normal shipboard accomadations that Pellaeon found it rather uncomfortable. There was also the problem of Rukh.

Nevertheless, Pellaeon found himself walking through the outer door of the sanctum. Into total darkness. He stood silently, straining his hears to hear Rukh's approach. When it was not forthcoming, he started towards the second door. The he noticed the silver blade chafing his Adam's apple. Pellaeon started quickly, and thrust his elbow backwards. The Noghri gave a soft grunt. Apparently he had hit a sensitive spot. The knife melted away into the darkness and Pellaeon proceeded towards the door, sweating profusely under his heavy uniform.

Once again, he was awed at the Grand Admiral's sanctum. Works of art floated in the darkness, apparently self-lit. Only two red slits in the center of the room hinted at Thrawn's presence. Pellaeon called in a whisper.

"You sent for me, Admiral?"

The slits grew larger and the fruity voice began. "Ah, yes Captain. I wanted to discuss our options as per the Millennium Falcon. But first, what do you think of these art pieces?"

Pellaeon studied them. They were all foot-tall flowing statuettes made of a shiny black metal or stone. They were somehow hard to look at, and seemed to bend light around them. His eyes felt suddenly tired and he looked away.

"What are they, sir?"

"There you have me, Captain. They are all from my private collection. I will not go into the details of how I obtained them, but their provenance was doubtful at the time and now I have only a fragmented theory of their origin."

"Forgive me, sir, but why are you studying them?"

"Well, it seems absurd, but something in my head seems to tell me they are related to the Millennium Falcon's disappearance."

"But…how?"

"Well, they are different enough from any art I have ever seen to be from an entirely different culture, and since I picked them up on a planet far, far beyond the outer rim; in the direction the Falcon appears to have gone, I regard them as evidence. My theory is that they were made by the race of aliens that has kidnapped or commandeered the Falcon. The art suggests an intelligence far superior to our own. Indeed, I wonder if these statues could somehow be the aliens themselves."


	4. Irregularities

Earth 1: Chapter 4

The pristine wilderness of this region was unsullied by sentient beings. No discarded parts, and none of the asteroid chunks common in more populated systems. Suddenly, there was a wink of light in the darkness, and a small, battered freighter appeared. The first spaceship ever to enter the desolate system.

The freighter was in bad condition. Coolant, fragmented and solidified by the vacuum of space, drifted from the side of the freighter, looking like nothing more than a violently blue powder. Han watched it spiral away out of the viewport, a morose expression on his face. Chewbacca poked his furry head in to the cockpit and growled something explanatory.

"So, you found the leak? Good job, fuzzface. What are you standing around for? Patch it!" At that moment, Leia squeezed past Chewbacca and entered the cockpit.

"Has Chewbacca told you the main spacesuit's busted?"

"No, he certainly hasn't." So that was why Chewbacca hadn't immediately patched it.

"Well, get the reserve one out, then."

Leia gave him a hard look and flopped into the navigator's chair, looking dead tired. Chewbacca sat down in the copilot's seat, looking just as tired.

"Okay, okay. Threepio, get in here!"

There was a metallic thud from the direction of the tech station and a flurry of high exclamatory words. Finally, Threepio entered the cockpit, standing opposite Leia.

"I thought Captain Solo wished me to try and figure out where we are." The droid said in a rather cold voice. Han noticed a few new dents on his "face" and saw that Threepio had got himself entangled in the wires.

"Never mind that, it's time to consult. Now, Threepio, what have you found so far?"

"Well, sir, now that you mention it, the information I gathered from the tech station was most interesting. There are several irregularities." Threepio was talking in his flat metallic monotone, as if he was addressing a board of directors.

"First of all, the memory of the computer has no record of the ship maneuvering into place for the hyperspace jump. The computer hypothesized that we were somehow moved into position by an outside force, like a tractor beam. Second, the computer has no record of the hyperspace coordinates that we used in the jump. Even though the navicomputer exploded only moments after feeding the coordinates to the hyperdrive, standard operating procedure dictates that the navicomputer would give a simultaneous copy of the coordinates to the main ship's computer that is accessed from the Tech Station. This copy does not exist."

"How is that possible? If there's no record of the jump in the computer-"

"Oh, I didn't say that, sir. The computer has hard evidence that we _did_ make the jump, but not the coordinates we used or how we got into position for the jump."

"There is something seriously wrong here. Even if we did make a blind jump….Incidentally, Threepio, what are the chances that we would make a five-day blind hyperspace jump and end up alive and unscathed? Especially off a major hyperspace route."

Han could almost see the gears turning in Threepio's head. "The chances of a ship of this size making it undamaged through a jump like this blind are approximately two hundred billion times the biggest number humans are able to comprehend, to one."


	5. Nerve

Earth 1: Chapter 5

It was an unassuming conference room, buried deep in the innards of the former Imperial Palace. It was nondescript inside, but everything was of the highest quality. The conference table itself, for instance, was made of a hypnotic whorled wood of a deep red color. Pellaeon couldn't keep his eyes off it. He listened with half an ear to Mon Mothma and Thrawn negotiating. It was give and take; all smiles on the surface, but below: the two most powerful people in the known galaxy, both stunningly intelligent, fighting the subtlest of battles.

"The problem, Admiral, is that we have only your word and that of Captain Pellaeon here, and seeing as the New Republic and the Empire are at war, you'll forgive me if I don't lay too much by your judgment." Mon Mothma was saying.

The Admiral smiled suavely. "Yes, I can see where you're coming from. However, take a look at my actions thus far. What could be my motive in leading you falsely here? Granted, I am not overly concerned with the fate of the Millennium Falcon and it's crew, but this new threat is a threat to both of us, and it would be foolish not to deal with it together."

"_If_ there is a new threat; we have only your word on that as well."

Thrawn nodded his head, conceding the point. "Of course, your reserve is admirable. I see no further point in negotiations on this subject. However, I ask that a ceasefire might be arranged, freeing up our mutual resources to search for _concrete_ proof of this new threat."

Mon Mothma gave Thrawn a hard look, as if sizing him up. "Very well. Drayson," she motioned to the Admiral standing behind her, "draw up a military ceasefire right away. I want it ready in two hours. If I find you have lied to me, Admiral, "Said Mon Mothma, with steel in her voice, "I will track you and your pitiful fleet to the end of the galaxy, and I will crush you." Thrawn's red, pupil-less eyes widened, and then narrowed. There was an electric silence as the two leaders tried to stare down one another; Grand Admiral Thrawn in his ivory uniform, contrasted by his deep blue skin and red eyes; and Mon Mothma, thin, almost skeletal, in her snowy dress gilt with silver.

Pellaeon and Bel Iblis, the other people in the room after Drayson had left, stared at each other worriedly and Bel Iblis gave a gravelly cough. Thrawn and Mon Mothma turned toward him questioningly, and Mon Mothma gave him the smallest nod of thanks for breaking the confrontation.

Drayson entered again, and looked rather puzzled at the hard looks being exchanged by the people in the room. "I have the ceasefire, Ma'am." He said to Mon Mothma.

"Already? That was record time."

"Yes, well, apparently they anticipated us," he replied, with the smallest of smiles.

Captain Juk Varaal of the _Victory_-Class star destroyer Tarkin watched as the stars rolled slowly past. The limitlessness of space always amazed him. Serving in the Imperial Navy, on a lonely post like this, you got to see a lot of it. Lieutenant Malyn came up behind him and cleared his throat.

"Yes, what is it?" The captain growled, annoyed at being interrupted in his musings.

"Pardon, sir, but long-range scanners show a fleet of small craft moving toward us at engagement speed."

The captain looked up. For the first time in months, a ship. A rather frenzied light shown in his eyes, and he strode down the bridge quickly to his command station. He sat down and began giving orders to the gray-clad officers around him.

"Lieutenant, bring us to flank speed. Major Freo, warm up all gun batteries. Lieutenant, please endeavor to make contact with them.

The Lieutenant's voice came over the speakers on the bridge.

"Unidentified ships, this is the star destroyer Tarkin, of the Imperial Navy. You have entered an interdicted zone. Turn back immediately or we will fire. I repeat, turn back or we will fire."

He turned aside and looked at the captain. "Sir, they don't seem to be responding."

The captain smiled fatally. "Perhaps it is time to show them what we are made of, Lieutenant. Give them a shot across the bow to warn them, and if they do not desist, bring the turbolasers to bear and fire at will."

The deck of the bridge vibrated slightly as one of the laser canons fired. On his screen, Varaal saw a computer rendering of the shot, flying directly ahead of the lead ship, missing by less than ten meters. He made a mental note to promote the gunner that fired the shot.

But the ships didn't even flinch. They were less than ten kilometers away and closing fast. The deck vibrated more noticeably as the turbolasers opened up. Varaal smiled again. _That will be the end of them._ But it wasn't. The small freighters continued to approach the Tarkin. Varaal's eyes narrowed.

"Increase firepower! Lieutenant, give them a volley of concussion miss-"

Then the ships fired. Cylindrical beams of opalescent energy struck the Tarkin. Varaal was almost knocked out of his chair. He immediately checked his screen. The shields were barely functioning; after only one burst of fire.

"How are they doing that?!" yelled the Lieutenant, panicking.

"Keep calm! Lieutenant, fire concussion missiles! Now!"

The lieutenant dithered for a moment and Varaal lost all patience.

"Sergeant, this man is relieved of his post and is hereby under arrest. Place him in the brig." The white-clad stormtroopers took the Lieutenant away.

"Major, you are now a lieutenant. Fire those bloody concussion missiles!"

"Yes, sir," the new Lieutenant said crisply, and fired the missiles. It didn't even make a dent in their formation. Varaal shook his head in wonder.

"Sir, you need to see this!" said the young tech sergeant on the other side of the Bridge. Varaal strode over. The computer at the tech station was analyzing the ships that were so successfully attacking the Tarkin.

The computer had constructed a 3D model of the ships, which were all identical. There were ten of them, each half the size of a ship like the Millennium Falcon. Their iridescent black color intrigued Varaal. When he looked closer at the schematic, he noticed that there was a strange, flickering halo around them. He asked the tech officer what it was.

"Well, sir, that's what is so puzzling. The ships are made of some sort of stone, and this stone seems to bend light around it.


	6. The Ship, Part I

Earth 1, Chapter 6

Luke Skywalker sat on a low chair in the Spartan apartment ha kept away from the Imperial Palace and the hustle and bustle of the main Coruscant thoroughfares. It was a rather inconvenient forty minute speeder ride from the Palace, so he did not frequent it often, but whenever he needed some solitude, he requisitioned his personal speeder from the capitol and flew away, leaving his cares behind.

Some zoning accident had preserved the buildings in this sector from the rabid construction of the Empire, so that the buildings were preserved in their pre-Clone Wars grace. Luke's apartment was high up on a building that looked rather decrepit on the outside, but inside was rather luxurious, if spare, even by Coruscant standards.

The walls in Luke's apartment were a restrained cream color. The furnishings were low and dark, mostly wood. Luke found the effect rather calming. He decided that he would spend the night here to relieve himself of the stress of the search for the Millennium Falcon. He sat in a chair, trying to concentrate on a news holomag, but his eyes wandered. He sighed, closed his eyes, and massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

Suddenly, there was a tingling in the force. His eyes snapped open. The tingle felt somehow wholesome, but also deeply, anciently sad. Luke stood up quickly and followed the tingle, pulling it in with his mind. It was trying to pull him out of the apartment.

He quickly grabbed his black cloak and walked to the small garage at the side of the apartment—a nice feature that Luke wished other apartments had. His speeder was floating quietly, making only the lowest humming noise. Luke ran his hand over its' slick, white contours. He had personally customized it to be quieter, faster, safer, and more efficient. He had worked on it whenever he had been on Coruscant; it was so easy to lose his fears in the intricate but understandable mechanics of the machine.

He hopped in and keyed for the opening of the door on the garage. It swung open and Luke gently propelled the speeder out, joining a slow-moving line of air traffic approximately thirty yards below his apartment, yet still miles above the surface of the planet. The tingling pulled diagonally to the right, and he joined the queue of vehicles turning. A light, cleansing rain began to fall and Luke looked at the overcast sky in puzzlement; the orbital mirrors and other systems were supposed to keep the temperature and weather on Coruscant static, so rain was rare. Luke also noticed a slight bite in the air, and was glad he had grabbed a cloak. He was glad the speeder was enclosed, and did not envy the rather sodden-looking Bith on a speeder bike to his immediate left. Instead of the normal, more instrospective mood that comes with rain, Luke was cheered up by it—it made for a nice break in the monotony of controlled weather, which Luke thought made the infinite metropolis of Coruscant even more depressing.

The clean tingling was relatively strong now, and Luke began looking around him, trying to locate the source visually. His eyes slid over dozens of small shops and warehouses before he saw it, a miniscule sign advertising a second- or third-hand spaceship lot. The tingle gave a surge, and Luke maneuvered over and parked the speeder in one of the empty, customer-convenience, docking "booths." He exited the speeder and, cloak over his head, walked through the afterthought of an entrance and into the establishment.

It was rather dim in the building, but relatively clean. Parts and equipment for spaceships of various breeds and pedigrees were stacked against the walls, with only a small desk cleared for paperwork and things. Luke thought at first that the room was empty, but he heard a grunt from behind the desk, and a gigantic form rose up.

"Do you want something, or are you just passing through?" A gravelly voice issued from behind the shadowed desk and a form stepped out of the dimness into the lighter main corridor through the room. Luke recognized him as a four-armed Besalisk, corpulent and extremely ancient.

"I'm Dex," he said, raising one of his hands, "the proprietor of this establishment. And you are?"

"I'm Lu-"

"-Uke Skywalker, Jedi Knight." The giant Besalisk furrowed his brow, age-dulled eyes searching. "It's been years since I've seen one of your kind. I remember it like yesterday."

Luke was surprised that the alien knew his name, and even more surprised that this seemingly isolated shop had seen a Jedi before. Luke remembered, with a twinge of the old mystery, his days searching for the records of the Jedi, especially his days on mythic Dathomir, wondering over Yoda's surreal message: _"We tried to free the Chu'unthor from Dathomir….but we were repulsed by the witches."_

"What was the name of this Jedi? Why was he here, of all places?"

"No, not here. I have not always been a low, bumbling, used-spaceship seller. Once, I owned Dex's Café; you may have seen what's left of it: it's on a ledge at the Nicandra building."

Luke did vaguely recall thinking it odd, the discolored spot about two-thirds of the way up the otherwise-gleaming Nicandra building, but he had never given it much thought. Although the location was practically adjacent to the Jedi Temple, Luke didn't find it any more likely that a Jedi would visit a small, working-class café attached to a building like a leech.

'Who was the Jedi? Why was he there?"

The Besalisk sat down heavily, his chair creaking dangerously, and began to smoke a strange, scaled pipe.

"Yeeess, it was Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi. We went way back."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?! You knew Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"'Course I did! And I'll tell you something: his life would have been a lot shorter if I hadn't saved his life on Rothana. Okay, I can see you're impatient. How would Obi-Wan feel about that, hmmm?"

Dex was right. Luke took a breath and calmed himself down.

"So, what occurred the last time you saw him?"

"Well, he was looking for information. I didn't know the specifics at the time, but I was curious; especially after Palpatine made it a crime to be curious," he said, looking wry. "So, I found out more about what had happened, and it led me, in a roundabout way, to what I have in my warehouse at this moment. But you'll see that later. Anyway, Obi-Wan and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, who later became Darth Vader, were tracking the perpetrator of a failed assassination attempt on Padme Amidala, the senator, and former Queen of Naboo. Apparently, the assassin was about to tell the Jedi about who hired her, but a poisoned dart silenced her. Obi-Wan came to me to see if I knew its' origins. I did know, in fact. It was a saberdart; from a planet you may have heard of: Kamino."

Luke had heard rumors, who hadn't?" about Kamino. The almost mythological site of the New Republic's cloning efforts, annihilated by Emperor Palpatine in one of his first Imperial acts.

"That's the last time I ever saw Obi-Wan. Shortly after that, in the confusion of the Clone Wars, Palpatine had his wretched 'Capital Area Beautification Act' that made it illegal to run a joint attached to another building within ten miles of the capitol. So, I was evicted with no compensation whatsoever. I have to wonder why Palpatine's 'Beautification' didn't include painting that scorched spot on the Nicandra building."

Luke was rather stunned by this new information; he had never really endeavored to find out more about his father before his fall, as the good in him was eclipsed, in more ways than one, almost completely. _Naboo. _The name didn't ring a bell in Luke's head, but there were so many planets in the galaxy, even if you discounted the backwater ones. Dex had seemed mildly familiar to Luke, and now he thought of who the Besalisk reminded him of: Yoda. The slightly condescending, mildly reproving manners were uncannily similar. Luke gathered his wits about him, still rather dazed from the flood of so much new information indeed. The _Falcon_ and its' crew were almost driven from his mind, and, losing his patience, pressed Dex for more.

"Where is Naboo? Why haven't I heard of it? Was it destroyed in the Clone Wars?"

"All in good time, my young Jedi," Dex said laughingly, "but first I have something to show you."

He led the way through a door Luke had not seen, and out into the ship warehouse, rather larger and cleaner than Luke had guessed it would be. The ships, however, were dazzling. Most of them were gleaming space yachts and transports, antiques, but clearly well-restored. Towards the back, there were a few new, smaller ships and against the rear wall were several ships in need of repair, some partially disassembled and some predominantly in crates, waiting for the work that would bring them back to life. Dex saw Luke's dumbfounded expression and chuckled.

"Not what you expected, Jedi?" He laughed.

He led Luke around gleaming ship after gleaming ship, explaining the stories behind some of the more interesting ones; Chancellor Palpatine's shuttle here, A Jedi fighter that Dex had to drag Luke away from, and several others. As they neared the back of the facility, Dex's stories became longer and sadder, as if the less-than-perfect state of the ships was affecting his mood. All in all, it took the two of them nearly fifteen minutes to cross the enormous, crowded room.

At the rear, left-hand corner, Dex punched a number into a keypad and a hidden door silently recessed itself into the ceiling. In the space beyond, there was another hangar, less than a quarter the size of the large one, and Luke could tell instantly that these were the more valuable ships.

They came in all sizes, shapes, and colors. Most of them were yachts, intended for the use of the spacefaring rich like Lando, but a substantial minority were clearly diplomatic ships, with no weapons to speak of. Others were clearly armed to the teeth, perhaps the playthings of the affluent pirate groups that had taken advantage of the corrupt Republic. Obviously Dex had a first class operation.

Don't you hate it when they say CONTINUED 


	7. The Ship, Part II

Star Wars Earth I Chapter 7

The trail of force that Luke had been following, almost forgotten during Dex's reminiscences, surged powerfully, and Luke could immediately see why: at the center of the second hangar was the most beautiful ship Luke had ever seen. Its lines were flowing and clean; a sleek and long touring ship. It had no weapons that Luke could see, and no ungainly engine pods to besmirch its glorious symmetry. The engines were tucked discreetly under the body, almost flush. The ship had vivid chromium plating and looked like nothing other than a bullet from some antiquated gun. The main body tapered equally at both ends, forming two points. The rear of the ship was differentiated with three fins; one on top of the ship and one on each side. Luke thought, as he stood gazing openmouthed at the ship, that these were for stability while maneuvering in an atmosphere. The ship was about 160 feet long, from nose to tail, and every inch was beautiful.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Rex asked, wryly. "Or would you like me to show you the rest of it?"

Luke was shaken out of his reverie. "Yes, I'd like to see the rest of it," he said, laughing.

Luke followed Dex to the rear of the ship, where Dex pushed several buttons on a key fob in his pocket. A rather ornate boarding ramp extended down. They went aboard.

The first compartment they entered, of course, was the airlock. Luke, who had recently taken an interest in shipbuilding trends, could have sworn it was late-Republic style, but there was a hint of something else. Whatever it was, Luke thought, it certainly did have _style._ Unlike a utilitarian, purposeful ship like the Millennium Falcon, this ship oozed character; something the Falcon only did when it wasn't working right. The walls were a warm, yellow crème color, set off by chrome accents. The affect was strangely calming. Dex was a slow walker, allowing Luke to muse on the utter dissimilarity of this beautiful ship compared to other ships he had seen. They walked through the airlock door into the next compartment, which seemed to form the majority of the lower deck. To the left, there was a cylindrical turbo lift, leading to the "bridge" of the ship, the view ports of which Luke had seen from outside the ship. It was no-nonsense and comfortingly utilitarian to Luke, used to the function-over-form ethos that had carried over from the Empire.

The controls were laid out straight and sensibly, and though they had kept their age well, it was clear that the ship was older than Luke was. He guessed it was pre-Clone Wars. Not all that long ago, but the horrific destruction during the Clone Wars and the Empire made pre-Clone Wars relics, if not exactly "collectible", antique in a way. The pilot and co-pilot's chairs were separated by a half-wall, with numerous attachments but no visible controls or data readouts. It was the same yellow crème color as the walls. Luke guessed it held the navicomputer.

Luke and Dex explored the whole ship, and yet still the Besalisk seemed to have something under his hat. The ship, Luke could see, was an unarmed consular ship, the sort a senator or other dignitary would use for transportation. The lack of ceremony or ostentation in the furnishings, however, led Luke to believe that it was meant as a more covert alternative to a larger ship; something an ambassador might use to get somewhere quickly and without raising any hubbub. It looked as though its did its job well.

The ship was above and beyond anything that Luke had ever seen. And yet, he still did not know why Dex was showing it to him.

"Dex….why are you showing me this ship? Why is it important?"

Dex sat heavily in the copilot's chair, looking sad. A single tear rolled down his craggy face. "Because it was the property of Queen Padme Amidala of Naboo, secret wife of Anakin Skywalker, and…your mother."


	8. Disclaimer, sort of

Hello, faithful readers. Sadly, I am experiencing mild writer's block. Chapter 8 is about one quarter done. It's going to be pretty long and cover most, if not all, the storylines. I am also going to rewrite the beginning to explain things like (a) what time period does this happen in, and (b) where are Leia's twins? Anyway, I'll probably be done by Wednesday or Thursday. Bear with me.


End file.
